Catching A Rake (A Rake's Redemption Book 3)

by G. L. Snodgrass

  “Of course, My Lord. As you wish,” Evans said then turned to Olivia. “And her Ladyship?”

  Olivia swallowed hard as she felt her blush grow. He knows, she realized, Evans is aware of what we just did in the garden, in the middle of the afternoon. What must he think of me?

  Pulling herself together she stood up a little straighter and nodded. “I will just eat off His Lordships plate, no need for anything special. What is good enough for him, is good enough for me.”

  Bradford glanced at her for a moment then smiled. “Tell cook to double the portions. I don’t mind sharing, but I don’t like to be left unsatisfied.”

  Olivia glanced back at him, “I find it hard Lord Bradford, to believe you have ever been unsatisfied.”

  He raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly. Silently admitting that she was right.

  Evans looked back and forth between the two of them, his eyes dancing with merriment. “Right away My Lord, My Lady.”

  Olivia watched the butler hurry into the house to relay their needs to the cook. She then turned and gently slapped Bradford in the arm.

  “You as much as told him what we just did,” she hissed at him.

  He laughed and said, “You confirmed it. Evans would never have believed it until he saw the look in your eyes.”

  “What look?” she demanded of him as her stomach fell. Was she that obvious?

  Bradford grinned from ear to ear. “The look of satisfaction a woman gets at a time like this. A look that can make a man want to conquer the world I might add.”

  Olivia brought a hand to her cheek, unable to believe she was so obvious.

  “Do not worry, My Dear,” Bradford said as he gently touched her arm. “We are newly married, it is expected.”

  She brought her hand down from her face as she thought about what he had just called her. My Dear, he had said. It was the first hint of anything like a sign that he might care for her. Even a little. Her heart broke. Oh, how she wished for an honest confession of love. How she needed to hear him say that he wanted her, needed her, loved her.

  But no, that would never happen. Instead, she must be happy with small terms of endearment. Words said casually without thought or meaning.

  Sighing, she stepped into the house and returned to the world of the Countess of Bradford.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Olivia pulled the thread through her needlepoint and looked up at the parlor door once again. She had been doing so ever since they had finished their dinner. True to his word, Bradford had eaten a full meal, then gently excused himself and returned to his study. Leaving her all alone. Responsible for her own entertainment.

  Damn the man. They had a beautiful, truly wonderful afternoon. An afternoon that had shown her what their life could have been like if he had loved her. A hint of what true happiness looked like. Then he had taken himself away.

  Sighing heavily, she let herself wander back to the afternoon liaison. The sheer shock of doing such a thing outside, in the middle of the afternoon. Even now, the pure brazenness of the act sent a small thrill through her. Imagine if anyone had discovered them.

  She shuddered at the thought.

  Yet, it had been that possibility that had added to the excitement she realized. Added to the passion. Even now, she could feel her body responding to the memory. Craving his touch once again. It seemed all she could think about.

  Putting her needlework aside, she started to rise, then slumped back down. What could she do? She couldn’t brace the man in his study. It was not as if she could walk in there and demand he take her to bed this instant.

  No. The thought was impossible. Instead, she would sit here alone, thinking about him. Wondering if he would come for her. The matter had been left open after all. If she was to get with child, surely it would take multiple attempts. He understood that, didn’t he?

  Taking up her work again, she tried to focus. Pushing thoughts of him aside.

  She had almost achieved a sense of calm when the parlor door opened and Bradford stepped in.

  He smiled at her gently and her heart melted. Everything about the man was thrilling.

  “I thought I would wish you a good night, Olivia,” he said with a small dip of his head. “I am off to bed.”

  Her heart sank. He was going to bed without her. This afternoon’s tryst was all she was to experience. The thought was maddening.

  Putting her needlework aside again, she rose and walked towards him. All the while maintaining eye contact. Desperately trying to make him understand.

  “Bradford,” she said with a frown. “I thought we agreed. If I am to have a child. Your child. We must try more than once.”

  A slow smile spread across his face. Damn the man, he knows I want him for myself. He can see right through me. Her cheeks grew warm and she just knew her blushing at that moment had confirmed everything he suspected.

  “Did we?” he said. “ I hadn’t realized we had come to such an arrangement. Of course, Olivia. Perhaps you are right. Perhaps we should make several attempts. Although. If this is your time, as you said, then once should be more than enough.”

  Her stomach tightened up. The man was going to make her beg. Yet, behind his smug smile, she caught a hint of desire in his eyes. He was trying to hide it, but she could tell.

  “Regardless,” she said. “I believe we should make several attempts. Just to be sure.”

  He smiled slightly, much like a cat with a bowl of milk, he was enjoying her having to ask him. The thought was enough to frustrate a saint, but Olivia kept her tongue in check and waited for him to respond.

  At last, he bowed slightly and said, “If that is the case perhaps we should begin.” As he spoke, he stepped towards her and placed a hand on her waist.

  Olivia stepped back, suddenly terrified of the hungry look in his eyes. “Not here,” she said. “A servant might enter.”

  He laughed. “Of course. As you wish. Will it be your bed or mine?”

  Her heart fell. Oh, how she wished he would take charge. She wished he would sweep her off her feet and take her wherever he wanted. Now and often. A strong desire to just surrender to him washed over her.

  He had her love already. Why couldn’t she just tell him? Why couldn’t she just let him take control?

  Because, she realized. If she told him she the truth and he rejected her, she would die. Plain and simple. No, this was better.

  Instead, she placed a hand on his chest and said, “Your bed, I should think. It went so well last time.”

  He laughed and said, “Of course Olivia. Whatever you wish.”

  She sighed internally. If she was to ever truly receive what she wished. The man wouldn’t be asking fooling questions. He would be ravishing her at this very moment.

  Tucking her hand under his arm, Bradford started to lead her up the stairs to his room. She swallowed nervously. After this afternoon, she no longer feared what was to come. No, now her nervousness was due to pure anticipation.

  Her heart raced and her breathing labored as she thought about what was to come.

  .o0o.

  Olivia slowly woke to a satisfied feeling of accomplishment. The night had been glorious. James had showered her with attention. Repeatedly bringing her to heights she had not known even existed.

  Her cheeks grew warm as she remembered some of the things he had done to her. Kissing her … down there… had changed her world. Made her realize there was so much more to learn. So much more to experience.

  She must tell him, she realized. She could no longer keep the secret from him. She must express her love for him and let the matter play out as it would. She couldn’t keep it to herself any longer. The man had won.

  Shifting she reached for him only to find the bed empty, the sheets cold to her touch.

  “James,” she called out softly. “Bradford,” she tried, a little more forcibly this time. Where was he? The fire had been stirred and a fresh log added recently so he hadn’t been gone long.

  Push
ing the bedding aside, she jumped up, gathering her robe from the back of the chair she slipped it on and peeked into her room.

  Empty, nothing. The man had disappeared.

  Biting back an angry curse, she hurriedly dressed in new clothes and scurried downstairs. As she did, Mary, who was coming up the stairs shot her a surprised look.

  “My Lady, is everything all right,” the maid asked with concern.

  Olivia waved a hand dismissing her as she hurried down the stair and into Bradford’s study.

  Nothing, Empty. The man wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

  “Evans,” she called out. Loud enough to wake the dead. Her heart felt as if it would burst through her chest wall and fall to the floor.

  “Yes, My Lady,” Evans said as he stepped out of the dining room. “If everything all right?”

  “Bradford. I mean Lord Bradford, where is he?”

  Evans tilted his head to the side as if he were trying to understand a ridiculous question. Then his eye changed over to obvious concern.

  “He left, My Lady.”

  “What” Olivia demanded. “What do you mean he left. Where did he go?” her world was coming to a screeching halt.

  “London, My Lady,” Evans said reluctantly. “A note arrived for him and he said that he must be off to London right away.”

  Olivia’s brow furrowed in confusion. What kind of note could draw him to London? If it had been a friend or family in difficulty, he would have woken her. Wouldn’t he have? No, that could not be it.

  Biting back a string of curse words she marched into Bradford’s study.

  “There My Lady,” Evans said from the doorway as he pointed to the floor by the side of the desk. Bradford must have dropped it as soon as he read it.

  Picking the paper up, she turned it over to see Warwick’s crest. He brow creased in confusion again as he took a deep breath and read the note.

  ’We have found what you desire.’

  That was all. Nothing more.

  Turning the note back and forth, Olivia tried to understand. What did it mean and why had Bradford left without telling her?

  A mistress, she realized. Warwick had found him the mistress he wanted. What else could it be?

  Damn the man, she thought. She had been so close to exposing her true feeling. Of admitting that she had fallen in love with him.

  And what does he do? He runs to London to be with another woman.

  Damn him to hell, she thought as a tear slowly worked its way down her cheek.

  Chapter Twenty

  Bradford smiled to himself as he guided the horse around the bend. She had looked so peaceful when he had left her. So at ease with the world. Like an angel.

  He had placed a quick note on the bedside table where she would see it when she woke.

  His angel, he realized with a sudden sadness. She had won. Somehow, she had captured his heart. There could no longer be any doubt. The woman had fairly and honestly ensnared him in a web of pure love.

  He must admit it to her when he returned. It was the only way. Although the thought of loving her and that love not being returned would haunt him. It was best to get it out of the way and let her know the truth.

  She would use it against him of course. But in reality, it didn’t matter. As long as she was happy. It was the least he could do for her.

  He had been lying there next to her. Those gorgeous hips nestled up next to him as he stared up at the ceiling, wondering how he should tell her. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a rider arriving. It had to be from Warwick, he knew in the bottom of his heart.

  Slipping out of bed, he had looked back at her and his heart ached for her. Literally ached.

  His heart raced as he thought of Warwick’s note. They had found the kidnappers for him. Now it was vital he get to London before someone killed them before he got to.

  Biting down the anger that flowed in to replace his happiness, he leaned forward and urged the horse on. Once in London, he took a sharp turn at Laurel Lane and went directly to Warwick’s home.

  Jumping off the horse, he quickly tied him to a post and ran up the stairs to bang on Warwick’s door.

  The door opened and Warwick gave him a quick smile.

  “That was fast, I do hope I didn’t tear you away from your sweet wife,” Warwick said as he waved him inside.

  “Where is he?” Bradford demanded. “And can I borrow a pistol? In my rush I forgot mine.”

  Warwick laughed. “He’s not here, but I know where he is.”

  “What do you mean he is not here. I just raced from Basingstoke. I didn’t even wake Olivia. And you tell me you don’t have him.”

  Warwick chuckled. “Don’t worry. We know where he is at. Jocko is keeping him under observation. We agreed, Nathanial and I, that we would wait for you before we approached the man.

  Bradford sighed internally as he tried to get the anger inside of him under control.

  “Take me to him,” he said with a cold sneer.

  “What? Don’t you want to go home first? Perhaps change. That is not exactly the latest London fashion.”

  Bradford didn’t bother looking at his clothes. He knew he was dressed in nothing but a linen shirt and rough woolen pants. Instead, he gave Warwick a look that let him know if he didn’t hurry Bradford was going to exact retribution on him instead of Olivia’s kidnappers.

  “Very well,” Warwick said as he held up his hands. “Let me have my horse brought around and we will go there right away.”

  “And a pistol?”

  “Yes, yes,” Warwick said as he gave instructions to his butler then showed Bradford into the study so he could give him what he wanted.

  An hour later the two men turned their horses onto a side street in White Chapel. Bradford recognized Jocko immediately. The Breton was tucked back in a shadow, staring at the building across the street.

  “What do we know about him?” Bradford said as he swung down from his horse.

  “A wounded war veteran, just as Olivia surmised. John Cooper. Twenty-four. Grew up in Chelsea, a baker’s son.

  “Just up the stairs,” Jocko said. “Second door on the right. He’s in there. No way out other than the front.”

  Bradford sighed as he removed the pistol from the waist of his pants. His friends knew their business. If they said this was his man, then he could rest assured they were correct.

  “Here’s Nathanial,” Warwick said as the big man rode down the street and stopped next to the group.

  “You owe me,” he said to Bradford as he dismounted. “It has taken every bit of self-control not to go in there and finish the man off myself.”

  “Me as well,” Jocko said from the shadow, still not taking his eye off the building.

  “Well, then, come along,” Bradford said as he turned and marched towards the front door.

  Not checking to see if he was followed, he pushed through the door and stormed up the steps. His heart raced. Not with fear, but anticipation. He had wanted this moment since he had heard that Olivia had been taken. Now, finally, here it was.

  Stopping in front of the door, he turned to Jocko to make sure he had the right one. The Breton nodded back affirmative.

  Bradford took a deep breath, then lifted his leg, and kicked the door in. Before the bang had even finished echoing down the hall, he was inside with the bore of his pistol resting against the man’s head.

  It was him, Bradford realized. The face he had seen in the coach. The face of the man who had shot him in the shoulder and tried to take his wife.

  “You can die now or wait for the hangman’s noose,” he said as his finger shook on the trigger of his pistol. It was taking every bit of control to stop himself from shooting this man here and now. But first, he needed information.

  Stepping back, Bradford studied the man closely. The criminal looked over Bradford’s shoulder at the three other men who had crowded into the room, each with their own pistol in hand.

  “Don’t worry ab
out them,” Bradford said. “They have given me their word that I am the one who gets to kill you.”

  Mr. Thug, as Olivia had called him, swallowed hard and nodded, making sure not to move any part of his body that might give them an excuse.

  “Who hired you?” Bradford demanded.

  The man sneered at them, as if he wasn’t afraid at all, then shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  Bradford held his anger in check then called out over his shoulder, “Jocko, castrate him. Maybe then he will talk.”

  The Breton laughed as he pulled his sailor’s knife from its sheath and started towards the man.

  “No, no,” the thug said as he raised both hands in front of himself pleading with them.

  “Better yet,” Bradford said, “give me the knife and let me do it.”

  Jocko stopped, his left eyebrow rising in doubt, then he shrugged his shoulders and handed the knife to Bradford.

  The thug’s face had become chalk white as he stared at Bradford. “Please, no, I really don’t know his name.”

  Bradford took a step towards the man, pistol in one hand, knife in the other.

  “You better come up with something fast. But don’t worry, if I miss, Jocko will finish it for me. He has more experience in these matters.”

  “No, I’m begging you. I really don’t know.”

  Bradford waited, giving him time to come up with something.

  “He was a Lord,” the man said with pure desperation.

  Bradford frowned. “How do you know?”

  Cooper scoffed, “Your lot give off an air of entitlement. This one had it in spades. Must of learned it at his nurse's knee. Plus, he dressed like a lord. Talked like a lord. Like it was a bother to even converse with the likes of me.”

  Bradford hesitated, then took a step towards the man.

  “No, no,” Cooper said as he scooted back in his chair. “He was young, younger than you. Found me in the Boars Head, just the other side of the docks. Brown hair, brown eyes. Good looking, for a Lord that is. Weak shoulders though. You know what I mean.”